The Untold Past: Sephiroth
by Crimson Sun
Summary: A series of short stories from Sephiroth's childhood.


The Untold Past: Sephiroth By Crimson Sun

1. Revelation

There were voices coming from the far side of the corridor. There was the sudden sound of something falling hard onto the floorboards, amplified in the silence. Someone cursed loudly, a chair scraped, and in the stillness that followed, holding his breath carefully, Sephiroth crept towards the light at the other side of the hallway - the kitchen. Being caught out of bed at this hour would be bad, so he had to be quiet. At a fair distance, which he judged would be safe to bolt from should he be discovered, Sephiroth could just recognize the voices as belonging to Hojo and Professor Gast.

That was quite odd. Professor Gast had not told Sephiroth he was coming, and Hojo had been out the entire day, which was strange in itself, since that meant no one was there to give Sephiroth his shots. This was not a bad thing; Sephiroth didn't mind at all a whole day without seeing the gaunt figure of the old man standing in his doorway, much less clenching his arm with a permanently clammy hand and stabbing it with needles in the same spot, over and over again. He hadn't missed the attacks of cold sweat afterwards either, the ten-minute-delirium, the whispers at the back of his mind he could never make sense of. But the people around him said worse things would happen if he didn't take the shots, so Hojo was always here to give them to him. The previous day had been, in his memory, the first time Sephiroth had not been made to go to the white room.

He thought it had something to do with the last time Hojo had wanted to hurt him, and he had, for the first time in his life, resisted. Professor Gast had been the only one for whom Sephiroth would sit quietly for, but Professor Gast was almost always away these days, and never stayed long enough when he did visit. Sephiroth found that without the kind doctor around, he no longer had the will to subject meekly to Hojo's cruelty anymore. He had expected Hojo to be mad and himself to be punished, but besides a scolding by his caretaker, nothing else had happened. The silence and anticipation was almost worse than he could bear, but if the result was fending off Hojo, if only for a day, he was satisfied and determined to see it through.

From within the room, he thought he heard his name being spoken. Being careful not to tread on the floorboard he knew would creak, Sephiroth peeked his head around the half-open door that led into the kitchen. The scientists were talking in hushed tones - at least, Professor Gast was. Hojo didn't seem to be doing too much at all. He was sitting with his head lying in a casual sort of way on one of his arms, supported by the edge of the dinner table. He looked asleep. There was a brown liquid on the floor tiles that seemed to be hot coffee, but it was being ignored. Before Sephiroth could concentrate on what was being said, Professor Gast had broken off the sentence he was in the middle of, and laid a hand on Hojo's shoulders, gently nudging him.

"Simon? Simon, don't sleep here." The taller man said, still shaking his colleague in an almost defeated way. Hojo grunted in reply, but made no other movements. Professor Gast sighed, tried again, then sighed once more before walking to a corner of the small room, opening a cupboard, and removing some sheets of paper towels from their roll.

"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying, Simon? Or have you been asleep? You look terrible." He bent down with effort and started wiping the spilt coffee off the floor in silence, as if to let his unheard words sink in for a while. Sephiroth looked closer and discovered the professor was right. Hojo didn't look his usual immaculate self. The white shirt he was wearing was very creased and dirty, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the collar sticking up. His tie had been discarded and was dangling on the backrest of his chair, and his long hair was coming out of its usual tidy ponytail. Sephiroth felt slightly shaken - it was the first time he'd seen Hojo so...well, unlike himself.

"I don't give a rat's ass what you've been saying, Gast..." Hojo's speech was slightly blurry, the ends of words runninng together, and he trailed off awkwardly. His face had still not left its spot in the crook of his elbow. "It's none of your business..."

He hiccuped, and lapsed into silence again. Professor Gast clicked his tongue - the way he did when Sephiroth had been caught doing something he shouldn't have - and got back to his feet with difficulty, one hand holding the tabletop for support, the other throwing aside the soiled towels as he stood.

"I'm sorry to state the contrary, Simon, but I'm afraid it is every bit my business when my partner decides to abandon his duties to get hopelessly inebriated like some common drunkard." Professor Gast sighed again. It was always one of his greatest hopes that his young colleague would show some sort of emotion other than hostility. He had tried to warm the boy up, make him see that he did not have to close himself off from everyone around him, but Simon was like a porcupine whose protective spikes had already become a habitual part of life. Time went past and Gast had learnt just to stay out of the man's way, and that seemed to suit both of them fine. The older scientist wondered if this would be the best thing to do now, just to go away quietly and leave Simon to whatever woes he had been trying to drown with alcohol, and decided that, upon hearing the slightly laboured breathing from the immobile form sprawled across the table, this was not the best thing to do.

"What led you to this?" Professor Gast grumbled more to himself than to his companion as he struggled to get the latter to a sitting position. "I don't even suppose Sephiroth received his injection today; I was certainly not here to witness it. I come back this afternoon to inquire after Sephiroth's health, only to hear Elixier tell me you've been missing all day. Not very professional, Simon; very unlike your behaviour. Now are you going to sleep here tonight? I certainly can't carry you back to your room, but I'm sure Tseng wouldn't mind the trouble. Now come on, what's the matter with you?"

He received no reply but a wavering hand groggily trying to push him aside and a few very vulgar mumbles. Hojo's eyes were still closed, though he was groaning softly in a frustrated tone.

"There is no asking you anything while you're like this, is there?" Professor Gast said in exasperation, letting go and allowing Hojo to slump back onto the table. There were a few moments more of silence, while Professor Gast merely stood and regarded his companion darkly, but suddenly a determined look crossed his features. Briskly taking up the now empty coffee mug, Professor Gast strode over to the sink, filled it with tap water, and returned with it to the table, pushing Hojo back against the chair's backrest as he did so.

"I would rather leave all the questioning until tomorrow, Simon, but unfortunately the lab back home needs to be looked after and I have to run for the helicopter early tomorrow morning. Those technicians - I don't know what Shinra's paying them but whatever it is, it's way too much. JENOVA's tank - no, but back to the point, I can't stay until you've outslept your hangover tomorrow, at which point you may be even more reluctant to cooperate. So, what is it going to be, Simon? Hmm? Want to tell me what's wrong?"

Hojo mumbled something that made Professor Gast's brows furrow with distaste. After a last, very blatant, sigh, the older man took the mug from the tabletop, and with one swift motion, brought its entire contents over his partner's upturned face.

The change in Hojo's persona was electric. He bolted upright in the chair, hands flying to his face to wipe away the liquid, spluttering all the while and cursing at every second word. Sephiroth withdrew further into the shadows, fearing the noise would wake the whole house. Gast retreated away from Hojo, face calm, but his mouth a firm straight line.

"Shit, old man, what are you thinking?" Hojo's voice had not lost its blurry edge, but anger fuelled by alcohol made it dangerous none the less. Professor Gast was expressionless, and in his silence was even more frightening. Sephiroth cowered away until the door nearly obscured his vision. He was almost used to seeing Hojo angry; the man was in a constant temper at every little thing to go wrong in the mansion, but Professor Gast in his composed anger was somehow more threatening. It changed his kind face completely.

"So you weren't really _that _drunk after all, were you? I heard about the incident involving Sephiroth from Elixier, Simon. Is that what has you all worked up?" Professor Gast was fast breaking out of his usual tranquil, patient exterior, and it scared Sephiroth enough to freeze him. The lab. Two days ago. That was what made Professor Gast so angry. But he couldn't blame Sephiroth for what he did, surely... Sephiroth had just been trying to defend himself. He had planned to war with Hojo, but didn't want to upset the kindly doctor...

Hojo had not replied, but his face was livid. His glasses were balancing on the tip of his nose, threatening to fall at any moment, yet he made no move to correct them. His teeth were bared. Anger had all but broken through the clouds of intoxication, and in front of Professor Gast sat a live snake, not in the least dulled and more poisonous than anyone could predict.

"I don't…remember asking you for any sort of advice, Gast." Hojo hissed with slight difficulty, his eyes no longer unfocused and water still dribbling down his face. "I am…not 'worked up' over it, but the 'incident' you speak of nearly cost me…my life."

"What did you think would happen, Simon?" Professor Gast had raised his voice in contrast. "Not taking my advice, neglecting the poor child, treating him like another lab animal... I thought it was just a matter of time before he rebelled, and frankly, I'm glad it was sooner! You're being unfair to him, I keep telling you, it's not his fault his mother died!"

"So that gives him the excuse to slice open my wrist, does it?" Hojo's features twitched, with the air of one fighting to ward off an untimely headache.

"That's – that's not what I meant. He's just a child, Simon! He didn't know what he was doing, other than that he was protecting himself. Besides, the cut wasn't that de-"

"He knew perfectly well what he was doing! The scalpel...he sneaked it in from the examination room earlier... He had it all planned... He wanted to kill me!"

Sephiroth bit his lip to stop from crying out. It wasn't true... He had not had any sort of ideas like that. He just wanted to fend Hojo off, not to kill anybody. He wanted to stop the pain for just a little while, disobey the voices that even through dreams told him that he was to behave. He didn't know what would happen; only that Hojo would be mad. He hadn't planned ahead at all, and now they were arguing about him, talking about him as if he was some sort of demon... He remembered so little from that day, so little other than the astounded look on Hojo's face, and the crimson blood that seeped through the wound on the scientist's wrist, staining his sleeves... But it wasn't Sephiroth's fault... He had thought so little about the whole thing... Something in his system made him forget every detail save for the triumph of the moment, but hearing them talk about it like this... Sephiroth wanted to go back to bed now, but he felt strangely paralysed. His feet would not move, and he couldn't make a sound.

"Your part of the project lies back in Midgar, Gast." Hojo was saying, his voice quiet and waspish. "The responsibility of the boy lies with me. I control his upbringing, and I will do with him what I please. Shinra wants his Messiah, not a spoilt, over-indulged brat, and I will see Specimen One to perfection by _my_ way."

Professor Gast seemed at a loss for words. He stared disbelievingly at the man in front of him, who suddenly appeared as unfamiliar as a total stranger. Simon Hojo had never been the most pleasant of people, but after his wife's death, he seemed to have had his heart and soul - whichever functioned as his emotional centre - wrenched out and replaced with a life form totally devoid of any feeling whatsoever. Gast had hoped and wished throughout the past two years that Simon would get over the obvious obstacle he was trying to come to terms with, but it seemed that this was never going to be so. Finally, after a long pause, the near-defeated man managed to bring out something that had been on his chest ever since an angel's departure: "You've changed, Simon. You've sunk too far into this whole affair... I don't know what it is, but something happened to you. Something... Ever since JENOVA-"

He swallowed.

"Ever since JENOVA... I've watched it happening, I've told myself it was just my imagination... I've told myself you were just going through a hard time, that Lucrecia's death was hard on you, that you were grieving... But this whole situation is getting too sinister. You tell me Sephiroth slit your wrist? He tried to kill you? Both of you... since JENOVA...since Lucrecia..."

"Gast, you're rambling." Hojo didn't even look up.

"I don't understand! How can you behave this way?" Professor Gast raised his voice for one last time in desperation. "Sephiroth is your son, Simon!"

Sephiroth's ears rang with an unnatural intensity. He lost feeling in his knees and flopped silently to the floor, head resting against the crack in the door, eyes wide and unseeing.

"Yes." Hojo leaned his elbows on the table and put his forehead onto his fingers. "And I will raise him how I see fit."

Continuing to ignore the stunned Professor Gast, he lowered his left arm to gaze with hatred at the bandage wound around its wrist. "The little bastard will pay for this."

Professor Gast's mouth formed soundless syllables, but nothing short of violence could possibly express what he was feeling.

"I sincerely hope that's just the alcohol talking, Hojo." He finally managed to murmur before turning on his heels and stormed out, not even noticing the still, tiny figure of Sephiroth huddled by the door as he passed.

Sephiroth made sure the old doctor was well and truly far away down the corridor before clambering up, supported by the beam of the door. His legs were shaking badly; what he has just heard spinning circles in his head. He could not comprehend the information; could not relate the bad man, the one who did nothing but hurt him, to the word 'father'. His mind was too young to grasp the concept completely, though some part of him knew that this piece of news was vitally important and that he must remember it. But it did not change the way he felt about Hojo; quite the opposite - there was now a churning disgust in his stomach that told him he loathed the man more than ever.

Sephiroth got up to leave, and a loud squeak chilled him to the blood. He had stepped on the creaking floorboard.

Hojo picked the sound up immediately, just as the boy feared he would.

"Gast?" Hojo demanded, knowing the step was too light to be the other man. It couldn't be Tseng, Elixier, or one of the other assistants either; he would've definitely heard them coming. That only left one other person in the mansion. His head throbbed grotesquely within his palms, his temples beating a hideous rhythm against his thumbs. The effect of the mixed wines and beers he had had the evening before were wearing off too quickly; he had drank like this just after the woman's death and had stayed blissfully ignorant for at least the day after. The wound on his wrist was warm, drumming along with the rest of his body, making him ill with revulsion. He hated himself. He hated everything. He took off his glasses and wiped his face on his sleeve.

"Sephiroth? I know it's you, boy. Get in here. Now."

The sight of the silver-haired toddler irritated him even more. The child's pale face was pink and his features screwed together in anger. The expression that should be unknown to a boy his age; not the innocent tantrum, but pure, undiluted, hatred.

"What were you doing out of bed?" Hojo asked, calmly replacing his glasses. He got the exact reply he had expected.

"None of your business."

"Do you know the severity of what you did two days ago?" Hojo continued softly, abhorring the defiance on the infant's face. He waved the bandaged arm in front of Sephiroth's nose. "Have you got anything to say for yourself before receiving your punishment?"

Sephiroth remained silent, staring with his mother's eyes and her lover's gaze. Hojo found himself reflected in those pools, those pools that Lucrecia had passed on to her son – despite all his genetic information having been pre-decided - to watch him in the next life, that wretched, ugly thing on the verge of destroying itself but being unable to-

His unharmed hand struck out suddenly, catching Sephiroth completely off guard. The next moment the boy was sprawled on the ground, nursing his swollen cheek, eyes wide with shock. He seemed totally uncertain on how to act now, paralysed with fear, a little baby again, naive and helpless from attack.

"Now out of my sight, brat! If you hate the injections so much, see how you do tonight without them!" Hojo couldn't stand to look at her son any longer. He could almost hear Lucrecia screaming at him from her grave, but found he couldn't answer her.

Sephiroth scrambled up from the floor tiles and made a beeline for the door. But just before retreating to the safety of the darkness beyond, he span around, eyes watery.

"I HATE you!" He screamed, before tearing down the hall, footsteps echoing.

"The feeling's mutual, Sephiroth." Hojo muttered as soon as he was sure the boy was well out of earshot. He returned his face to his hands, but found to his despair that the alcohol was not to blame, as the effect of it had left him long ago.

Late at night, Sephiroth laid on his back, keeping his eyes open and refusing to let the tears flow past his eyelashes. His head was feverish; the sweat that clung to his every inch had already soiled his blankets. The voice was louder than ever; the one that normally merely whispered was controlling him, talking in frighteningly clear tones and commanding him to do its bidding. It was soothing, calming him, telling him not to be scared, that everything was going to be all right.

"How?" He asked it, only to receive the same words over and over, until he finally sank into a light slumber and the tears rolled unstopped down his face.

Hojo remained in the kitchen, his glasses clenched in his hands, enjoying the way his vision made everything one single haze. Unfortunately, her face still stood clear in his memory, despite how hard he had tried to submerge it.

"Happy birthday, Lucrecia." He muttered. "The boy has your spirit after all."

AN: Aloha everyone! No, I have not died, and yes, I am still writing. This piece was stupid and I kept kicking myself at the melodrama of the whole thing (like a bad soap opera. Yuck). But I've read heaps of Sephiroth childhood fanfics and decided to try my luck at writing my own. It is all pretty much going to be predictable stuff you've read before, but what I'm trying to do is in fact tell a part of HOJO's story through Sephiroth. This first chapter took way too long... But I have completely let go of trying to use the English techniques the teachers try to impose upon us. This was written with good old-fashion, blatant, all-telling, effortless FANFIC writing techniques.

Do I believe what I wrote? Yes. I think Sephiroth knows who his real father is. He did behave rather strangely at the subject in Nibelheim, after all.

I've been preoccupied with my deviantart account lately. PLEASE go at least LOOK at

And to anyone who cares...why is Hojo's name Simon here and Cyrus in the other fic? Well, if you stay tuned, I'll reveal it to you soon...


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